


There's A Light On This Tree

by disdainfullady



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Veronica Mars Holiday Gift Exchange 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3123392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disdainfullady/pseuds/disdainfullady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A last minute case threatens to get in the way of Veronica and Logan's first Christmas together</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's A Light On This Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lovers_Reunited](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovers_Reunited/gifts).



> Written for Lovers_Reunited who wanted happy Logan and Veronica and a look at their first Christmas complete with the whole gang. I didn't quite manage the Christmas dinner part of the request, but I tried to fit everyone in at some point. I hope you like it!
> 
> Major thanks to Ghostcat for a lightning quick beta turnaround, and for everyone on tumblr who held my hand while I struggled with turning this into something.

Logan glanced at the clock once more as he pulled up outside the new Mars Investigations. He was early. Veronica had texted him an hour ago claiming to be stuck with a ‘last minute walk-in bitch’ and asking him to move their reservations. _He’d move the world if she asked him to; reservations are no stretch._ He shook his head, the old fear niggling in the back of his brain, telling him not to push too hard, too fast. He reminded himself that she was skittish. She’d never trusted forever, and forever was all he’d ever wanted from her. 

He closed his eyes and carefully slowed his breath, and almost missed it when Neptune’s own devil in Louboutins strode out the door like it she was coming down a runway. He debated the opposing merits of making a motion to ward off evil and staying very still in the hopes that like so many reptiles, she had poor eyesight and wouldn’t notice him unless he moved. Course it would be just his luck if Petra Landros was the velociraptor of the aging model genus.

He almost thought he’d gotten away with it when she stopped halfway through the process of climbing into one of the most beautiful cars he’d ever seen in his life, her leg still poised in what he had to believe was a deliberate homage to Anne Bancroft, tossing her hair over her shoulder and spearing him with a glance. He did not run away. He was a lieutenant in the greatest Naval Force in the world and he did not run away. He strategically withdrew. And if he took the stairs two at a time while doing so, it was no one’s business but his own.

It didn’t take much to restore his equilibrium. One look at Veronica, still seated behind her desk, head bent forward as she studied the legal pad in front of her, and he caught the breath he hadn’t noticed he’d lost. No need for Veronica to know that all it took was the sight of a damn Ferragamo bag to bring back nightmares of being with Kendall Casablancas when the bus went over, of thinking he’d lost her. He batted that cobweb of thought away, resting his shoulder against the doorframe as he drank her in.

She’d dressed in something soft and black under the leather jacket that would always and forever mark the moment he felt her coming back to him. Even the frown on her face was perfect. She was perfect, and he’d rhapsodize about that at length if he ever thought she’d let him. He quirked a smile when she finally felt his eyes on her and he didn’t think he was lying to himself when he saw her brighten a little bit at the sight of him. He knew he lit up like a Christmas tree around her, so it was only fair.

“Honbun? Why was Neptune’s second scariest former lingerie model here?”

Her nose wrinkled at the nickname and he filed it away for future use. “Second scariest? Dare I ask who takes the gold?” She stood up and he’d crossed the room to her without noticing it.

“Clearly you haven’t met Ilsa Konovalski. The woman’s a walking case study in the evils of plastic surgery.” 

“I love this town. We might never beat Stepford in the housewife augmentation sweepstakes, but darn it if we don’t keep trying.”

Veronica laughed her sharp little disappointed laugh. It wasn’t aimed at him, but he clutched at her hand anyway, tracing the length of her fingers, trying to reassure himself with contact. He knew himself well enough to know that he would probably never stop worrying about that particular facet of their dynamic, even as they’d both consciously rejected it. Veronica turned his hand over, tracing the lines of his palm like she could read it. She probably could – it was just repetitions of her name, after all. He sternly reminded himself that, all evidence to the contrary, he was not, in fact, a lovesick nineteen year old anymore, he had a life and a career and he really needed to revert his thoughts to anything but the old patterns they’d worked so hard to break.

“So… Petra’s visit? You didn’t actually invite her over the threshold did you? Because the reverse invitation ceremony is rather intense.”

Veronica’s hand was tracing further up his arm, which was not distracting in the least. She always was a tactile creature. She blinked up at him, and for just a moment he wondered if he was the only distracted one.

“Oh, she just stopped by for a little chat.” Her voice was airy, dismissive, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you two strike me as a chatty duo.” Veronica had only spent two and a half Skype chats on the evils of Petra Landros, so they probably weren’t actual mortal enemies yet, but his girl was a hell of a multitasker so who knew.

“We are whenever she needs me for something she and the rest of the winged monkeys can’t bribe their way out of.”

He grinned despite himself. “Ah. So it's _’Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' ‘Tommy, go away’ ; But it's ‘Thank you, Mister Atkins,’ when the band begins to play’_?” She did the nose wrinkle again and he nodded at her. “Kipling.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Yes, I am a lowly bootblack in the great house that is British Imperialism.”

Her hand, which had ceased its movement at the unfamiliar quote continued its exploration, tracing the contours of his shoulder under a button down that he was seriously wondering why he’d even bothered wearing because at this rate there was no way they were making any reservations.

“So what appears to be bothering our beneficent Chamber of Commerce this Christmas? Not enough urchins in Victorian garb wandering the streets? A lack of nog?”

“Someone’s been stealing decorations from the Christmas displays at the Pavilion. And when you import your ornaments from Italy and your papier-mâché doves from Belgium, a few bobbles can add up to more than I make in a couple of months.”

He shook his head in disappointment. “Dude, everyone knows Sweden is the place for papier-mâché doves. What kind of idiots are running this place?”

“Anyway, since our lovely Sheriff’s department has about as much chance of finding the culprit as they do of not getting coal in their stockings this Christmas, some exclusive boutiques have indicated their lack of interest in re-upping their rental agreements.”

“And a Neptune without Gucci-”

“Is a Neptune that’s losing a _lot_ of business. Not just the stores themselves, but all those coffee and yogurt places around them, plus the yoga studios, spas and hair bars – which means not only would a lot of trophy wives have to go further for their pampering, but a lot of normal people whose jobs consist of said pampering would lose out. Apparently, it’s up to me to find the jerk that’s stealing Christmas.”

“They check on that green bastard on the hill yet? He hates Christmas. And I hear he’s got a prior record.”

“Please,” she scoffed. “I got them to put that guy away years ago. Animal cruelty. Not to mention a constant refusal to wear pants.”

“I thought you liked it when I-”

“Logan.” Her voice was sharp, like she wasn’t totally copping a feel right this second.

“So you’re taking the case?” 

She tucked her head against his chest and he took a moment to hold her a little tighter. He would never be sick of this.

“Can’t really afford not to, not with all the unexpected expenses this year.” Her voice was strained and he wished he could see her eyes right now. It ached that he couldn’t just take care of things for her, but she’d always resisted any attempt to strew her path with rose petals.

“You know that-“

“We are going to be late for dinner? I know.” She stepped away, and he suppressed a sigh.

“Veronica.”

“Look, it’s not a big deal. So I put in some time tracking down Scrooge. Maybe sick a couple of ghosts on him. I will gouge the Chamber of Commerce for all they’re worth and we’ll get back to our Christmas after that.”

He loved the way she said ‘our Christmas,’ but he still worried. He knew it was important to her – hell, it was just as important to him. This was going to be their first Christmas together, all previous iterations of their relationship seeming to peak in summertime and wane with the weather, and he’d been looking forward to this for far longer than he was willing to admit. He knew how committed she was to the holiday. He remembered her at thirteen making candy cane reindeer for the class. Fourteen and staring at the light displays like kids half her age. Fifteen and dragging the rest of them out caroling even though she was the only one of them that could actually carry a tune. He didn’t usually think of her as having anything in common with his mom, but that delight in the holiday was something they’d shared. That and a conviction that enough bows and ribbons could actually make things perfect.

She cocked her head to the side as she studied him, and he hastily composed his features. No need to go into yet another Logan Echolls sad sack life moment.

“Logan?”

“Hey, I’m just worried about your time schedule. How are you going to get through your list and check it twice if you’re chasing Hans Gruber?”

“Hans Gruber? Is there a fake terrorist plot I need to be worried about?”

“He’s just as much of a Christmas thief as the rest of them. Even if he is better dressed.”

“I promise to be on the lookout for suave Brits pretending to be German.”

“And don’t forget suave Brits pretending to be Germans pretending to be Americans.”

“Naturally.” She frowned and snagged the legal pad off her desk. For a second he thought it washer case notes, but the first line – Do a better job hiding Padres ornaments – caught his eye and he grinned, because of course she really had a list. And he couldn’t help but notice that particular item was checked twice. “I probably will have to lose some things off the list, unless the first person I talk to just cracks under my withering glare and tells me everything.”

“Well, it is an impressive glare.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“I suspected as much.”

“Look, why don’t you let me –“

“Logan, I already –“

“Let me take over the Christmas list.” 

He wasn’t sure where that came from, but her mouth dropped open, and he gave himself five bonus points because it wasn’t that often that he could actually surprise her. 

“You want to string lights and bake cookies? At my dad’s.”

Right, her dad’s place. Because no matter how well things were going, he hadn’t quite dared to ask her to move in with him. Not that things with Keith had been bad, exactly, but still, he hadn’t been eager to sign up for a whole bunch of one on one time with the man. He plucked the list out of her hands.

“Look, I might not be the Christmas Guru you are, but I’m pretty sure I can both ‘pick up poinsettia’ and ‘program the DVR for Charlie Brown Christmas’.” He smoothed her hair back. “Let me save our Christmas while you save everyone else’s.”

***

“Veronica.”

“Hey Pops, what kind of fence do you think handles Venetian glass ornaments? Because I can’t see there being a big black market for these things.”

“Veronica, why is Logan Echolls setting up a spruce tree in our living room?”

“Because the tree lot was out of noble firs?”

“Veronica.”

“Because it would look ridiculous in the bathroom?”

“Veronica, I will middle name you if I have to.”

“He offered, dad. He knew taking this case might take up a lot of my time, and you know what a sailor on leave has? Time. And a need to tap dance around New York with Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra, but also time.”

“Why didn’t you ask me to take care of the tree?”

“Because – because this is something I can let him do.”

“Veronica?”

“I can’t – I could say yes to this. I can’t say yes to some things yet, but I could say yes to this.”

“Yet?”

“I’m getting there. I think. I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“You be nice to him.”

“When have I ever not been nice?”

“Let me answer that question with a snort.”

“Charming, honey.”

“I am nothing if not full of charm.”

“And Veronica? You aren’t the only PI in this household – I will find my Padres ornaments.”

***

The Neptune Pavilion was an outdoor mall located a block over from the 09er and within walking distance from the Grand. Not that anyone ever actually walked there. Since the Pavilion consisted solely of designer boutiques and a few independent labels anxious to be considered designer and so priced accordingly, Veronica had only ever been there on the trail of Neptune’s philandering moneyed class. Even the parking was twenty dollars, and the attendant gaped at her when she requested an actual receipt, like she wasn’t going to be expensing the hell out of this particular job. Shoot, for keeping her away from the gift wrap, not to mention her home from the Navy boyfriend, she was going to add a charge for her peppermint mocha latte as well. Caffeine was absolutely a legitimate business expense in her world. Actually, in most worlds, now that she thought about it. There was probably a standard Starbucks write-off line somewhere she’d just never noticed on her tax form.

She was debating the merits of circling round to look for some price-gauge free parking when a blond woman in a crisp looking navy suit intercepted the attendant.

“It’s okay, Antonio. She’s with me.”

The name on his badge said Raul, but if the guy was bothered by being renamed, he made no indication. And she supposed that it was always possible he’d left his name tag at home and had to borrow one. Or, of course, that he was so used to being called the wrong name that it didn’t even register anymore. Being Neptune, she wasn’t placing her odds on the first one.

She smiled halfheartedly at probable-Raul, before turning her attention to his employer. Miranda Priestly, this woman was not. From her sensible heels to the grey strands threaded through her otherwise honey blonde locks, nothing about her read as standard Neptune. Except for the dismissal of the help. Well, shoot, maybe his name really was Antonio.

“Miss Mars? I’m Kate Evans, we spoke on the phone.”

“You own the property.” Veronica wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to shake hands or not, but before she could settle her mind, the other woman had already shifted into walk-and-talk mode.

“Well, my company does,” she corrected, and Veronica frowned.

A simple search on KE Enterprises had given her the basic info on the LLC formed fifteen years earlier by then newcomer Evans. She had put up the initial capital on a dilapidated storefront using money from an insurance payout, and over the years, had made that money work for her. In addition to the Pavilion property, KE Enterprises had bought up a great deal of beachfront retail including most of Neptune’s pricier restaurants. Kate Evans was doing well for herself.

“Ms. Evans, your company is you.”

The woman’s smile tightened. “Well, legally speaking, it isn’t. And since these last several weeks have put some of my more excitable tenants in a litigious frame of mind, I’d rather we maintain the distinction.

“You’re being sued?”

Ms. Evans sighed, her hand worrying the pendent on her necklace in what was probably a habitual nervous tick. “Not yet. The word has been thrown around a bit, though. Not that there’s any case, but in the absence of an actual malefactor, someone must be made to pay. Some people might be under the mistaken impression that that entity will be my company.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “I thought this was just about some missing ornaments.”

The other woman paused, and then shook her head. “Well, it is and it isn’t. It’s true that the only things taken so far have been from the Christmas displays, but whoever did this let themselves into three different stores to do so. It’s possible that these early forays are just the first move in a larger game.”

“When you say ‘let themselves in’-”

“There were no external signs of a break-in. Nothing broken, the door wasn’t forced.”

Veronica bit her lip. No signs of a break in probably narrowed the suspect pool but also meant she was dealing with a slightly more intelligent criminal. “Who had keys?”

“To all three stores?” The other woman shook her head. “No one. We have security for the grounds, but they don’t have access to the buildings, and the stores themselves are independent operations. No one should have keys to all three.”

“You don’t have access yourself?”

“I control the property, but as long as the rent is paid and everything maintained according to their contract, I’m completely uninvolved. I don’t have keys to any of the stores in question.”

“What about alarms? Cameras?”

“One of the shops had neglected to set their alarm. The other two were on the edge of the complex and the – whoever it was, the thief – was gone by the time security had responded. As for video, we’ve got someone in baggy jeans and a hoodie. I couldn’t even tell you their gender. The cops have the tapes, I’m afraid, but I could try to get you copies.

“I’d appreciate that.” Especially since they’re probably just gathering dust in the evidence room. “What’s the response time for your security?”

“They were there in eight minutes in one case. Seven in the other.”

“Pretty quick turnaround.”

“Not quick enough. Like I said, the thief was already gone.”

***

“Logan?”

“Wallace”

“This – this is not what I expected. I don’t even know what I was expecting, but this was not it.”

“I live to disappoint. Veronica’s out right now, but it’s been swell catching up.”

“Not to be nosy or anything, but what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m dicing candy canes.”

“Okay, yes, I can see that.”

“There you go then.”

“You’re going to make me actually ask you why you are chopping candy canes, aren’t you?”

“Like I even know? It’s part of the recipe. I have to get two thirds of a cup of diced candy canes and it will never happen because every time I try, pieces of cane fly across the kitchen. I’m dodging peppermint shrapnel.”

“Where’s Mr. Mars?”

“Physical therapy till five.”

“You do realize he’s going to kill you if he comes back and his kitchen looks like this, right? And then Veronica’s going to be spending her Christmas in jail, and I’m going to have to cut my own holiday celebrations short to be there for her?”

“It’s so heartening to know you care, dude.”

“Hey, winter break is my time. And I am not going to be wasting it down at the police station mourning your pathetic end.”

“I will try not to be murdered now that I know it’s an inconvenience to you.”

“That’s all I ask. And okay, I’m totally not laughing at you while you’re frustrated and holding a giant knife, but, you do realize there’s an easier way to do this, right?”

“Yes. Of course, I knew that. I just chose the hard way because I like to make my life more difficult.”

“Alright. That’s enough from you. Grab me a couple of sandwich bags. Nope, lower left cabinet. You put the candy canes in the bags, apply a meat tenderizer like so and voila, chopped candy canes.”

“I’ve been working on this for half an hour.”

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing I stopped by.”

“Why did you stop by?”

“Veronica might have mentioned what you were doing; I just thought I check and make sure the house wasn’t on fire.”

“I’m touched.”

“Yeah, well, the Mars Christmas traditions are a lot for one guy to take on. So, if you need any more help –“

“I’ll call you.”

“And I will remind you that you are the idiot who thought he could be a Christmas elf.”

“Right. Hey – thanks.”

“Hey, she might be your girl, but she’s my best friend. I’ll always have her back. I guess that means I’ve got yours too.”

***

At the third store, before Veronica could pester yet another unhelpful manager for a list of employees with access, not to mention anyone they thought might have motive, Kate pulls her over to the window display. “This is Siobhan, our design coordinator.”

Siobhan, a painfully thin forty-something whose gorgeous red hair had been desecrated with a black dip dye, gave Veronica a thorough and dismissive once over before turning to Kate with an air of injured inquiry.

“Siobhan, this is Veronica Mars. We’ve hired her to look into the break-ins.” Rolling her eyes, Siobhan turned back to the window display in front of them. Kate glanced over at Veronica. “Siobhan’s the one who can give you all the details as to what exactly was taken – the entire visual look of the Pavilion is her brain child. She manages the seasonal displays and makes sure there’s consistency throughout the complex while still maintaining individual brand aesthetics.”

Veronica blinked, and reached for one of her more forced professional smiles. “Well, I have no idea what that means, but it sounds really important.”

Siobhan’s head whipped around, her faint frown deepening to a wounded scowl. “The Pavilion is not a mall. It is unique retail experience. We maintain a cohesive image throughout our stores. At the same time, every display must look to the feel of an individual designer. You could never use the same design for Marchesa that you would for Calvin Klein. You are speaking to completely different world views. I seek to marry the opposing needs of the individual and the collective while still maintaining my own artistic vision.” 

Her face grew flushed as she expounded on her premise, the excitement making her look a little less like a comic book supervillain and more like a person, albeit a slightly pretentious one. She continued, “I strive for harmony, sometimes utilizing a universal colour palette or a repeated motif, sometimes through a single element applied in different ways. This toy soldier for example. In a Michael Kors display he would be very traditional, very clean, very safe.”

“For Versace you dress him in sequins?” Veronica asked skeptically.

Siobhan’s head snapped back like she’d been slapped, and Veronica silently reminded herself that she needed to rule people out before belittling their life’s work to their face.

“Mine is a difficult vocation few designers could manage.” Turning to Kate in a sudden fury, she continued, “And this year, the job was bungled beyond belief, because of that fool of an assistant you hired. Even had we not been plagued with these robberies, I would have been forced to redo the mess he made of my work.”

Kate’s conciliatory smile was a little more successful than Veronica’s had been. “Siobhan was stricken with bronchitis right before our display deadline. We had to make some last minute decisions.”

“Decisions. You mean desecrations. You knew I never have used those cheap knickknacks. And now, I must redo all my work. It’s not like I don’t have my own celebration - my own family - to get to. But no more than two days more. I can’t push my flight back any more than that.”

“Siobhan’s obviously feeling a lot of pressure to get things done and squared away,” Kate murmured, apologizing like she would for a five year old with a tantrum. “She’s not the only one. I’m supposed to be joining my boyfriend in the Bahamas in a couple of days, and I don’t know that I can do it with this still hanging over us.”

“These cheap knickknacks she’s talking about. That would be the several hundred dollars worth of stolen ornaments?”

Siobhan looked at Veronica through narrowed eyes, lifting her chin slightly as she brushed some invisible dust from the peacock patterned scarf wrapped round her waist. “Those were mere baubles. Machine made and not at all the quality I demand. I had already ordered a better batch, but no, they go and use those Pier One knock-offs,” she said, with the air of one delivering a deadly insult – a slap in the face great enough to inspire a duel or a walk-off à la Zoolander.

Still apologetically, Kate continued. “Obviously we weren’t able to execute things as well as she would have done herself, so it’s fortunate that we have her to fix it. I’m not sure what we’d do without her.”

Possibly have fewer grey hairs? But then again, what is a little stress compared to an appropriate Michael Korsian display. Of course, you could go the walk-off route. Then you’d have bonus David Bowie and we’d all win.

Something occurred to her. “This assistant, is he still working for you?”

“After what he did? He would be lucky if he ever works again.”

“Right. The machine made, Pier One, knock-off Venetian glass. So, that’s a yes to the firing?”

Kate was the one to answer. “We felt that he wasn’t really thriving where he was, and that he might benefit from a job with less responsibility.”

“You told me he was gone.” Siobhan hissed.

“He’s not working at the Pavilion anymore. He’s still doing a few odd jobs on some of my other properties.”

“Any chance he resented the demotion?”

“I would believe anything of him,” she sniffed.

Veronica curled her lip and reminded herself that she was still in fact finding mode.

Kate’s answered slowly, reluctantly. “Jared’s a good kid. I’d hate to think he could do anything so malicious.”

“Really? Even if he didn’t mean to aim it at you?” Veronica nodded her head at no-last-name Siobhan, who had just hung and re-hung a single ornament in three different places. She’d just met the woman, and already she felt a near irresistible desire to accidentally on purpose break some of the fragile glass the second her back was turned just to watch the melt down. There’s no telling what a nightmare it must have been to actually work with her.

“I suppose it’s possible.” Kate admitted reluctantly.

“Great. So where can I find Jared?”

***

“Hello?”

“Mac the Knife!”

“I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.”

“Wait, what? Mac? Are you there?”

“Yes, Casablancas.”

“Yeah, listen, I’m C-day shopping for Logan, and I need your help.”

“Okay, well the really little silver coins are called dimes and they’re actually worth more than the medium sized ones.”

“Dude, who uses coins any more? No, I’ve got this list of ingredients, but I need to know if your food is like mixed in with the normal food or if there’s a special section I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Define normal food.”

“Food eaten by normal people.”

“Remind me to introduce you to my mother some time.”

“Aw shucks, but this is all moving so fast!”

“What specific non-normal food are you having trouble finding?”

“Coconut milk. I can see almond and soy but no coconut, and Logan is crazy right now. I was over there earlier and he was wearing an apron and yelling at me and if I get the wrong things I think he might kill me, chop me up and add me to whatever it is he’s making.”

“As entertaining as that would be, coconut milk isn’t going to be in the dairy section. See if there’s an ‘asian food’ section. It will be canned.”

“What kind of psychos can milk?”

“Psycho pastry chefs all over the world. Including whoever actually does your cooking.”

“That’s just messed up.”

“And on that note, goodbye Dick.”

“Yeah, hasta, Feliz Navidad and all that. See you at the big shindig if Logan hasn’t murdered me.”

“So I have a chance.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Bye Dick.”

***

“I didn’t mess up her displays.”

Jared Melara was a good looking kid of maybe twenty-two. He reminded her a little of Leo D’Amato, although whether it was the dark hair and eyes or too-innocent-to-be-believed ‘who me’ expression that sparked her deja vu, she wasn’t sure.

“All the more reason to be mad at her then.”

“I didn’t mess up the decorations, and I’m not nutso enough to go around stealing Christmas ornaments. Who does that?”

_A few bars of ‘You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch’ would probably be out of place, right? Right. Time for sympathy face._

“Jared, why don’t you walk me through what happened?”

Jared practically collapsed back into his chair, no longer righteously indignant, instead just a defeated little boy. “I did everything I was supposed to do. I followed her instructions exactly. I mean, she had diagrams and a whole color coding system. Which stores got all gold ornaments, which ones got the red and gold. Everything down to the last detail. I stayed up for three days straight getting it done. Then Siobhan’s out of the hospital throwing a fit because I used the wrong ornaments. They looked exactly the same.”

“You worked through the night? How’d you get access to the interiors?”

“Whenever they’re making changes, Siobhan sets it up with management. Sometimes she gets keys, sometimes I’m there before close and they don’t set the alarms.”

“Ouch, so you’d just work all night?” Veronica grimaced in sympathy. “I bet it was worse this time, since you were working on your own.”

“Yeah, I had to get keys because I was working by myself, so I couldn’t just do one shop a night like usual.” Jared didn’t seem to notice that he’s admitted to being able to access all of the burgled stores. But then he didn’t seem like he noticed much. It was straining credulity a bit to think he’d sleepwalked the burglaries, but she supposed he could be an amazing actor.

“What happened to the keys after that?”

“I turned them in to her. I was supposed to be her assistant, but she didn’t trust me to do anything. She’s like the world’s super control freak. She yelled at me for signing for an invoice once when she was out. Like, it would have been better if they shipped the stuff back to India?”

Veronica frowned. She’d reviewed the purchase orders and hadn’t seen anything - “India? What came from India?”

“The ornaments. The ones in the first crate that Siobhan said weren’t good enough.”

“I thought they came from Italy.”

“One of those places.”

_Okay, so giving Jared a job with less responsibility was probably a good thing._

“And it’s not like I’m the only one who hated her. Everyone hates her. Security, the shop managers, even the coffee shop people. Like I had to make sure they knew which one was mine so they didn’t spit in it.”

“She try to get anyone else fired?” A bit abrupt, but she’d tired of sympathy face. _It’s not like anyone ever hired me for my people skills._

Jared closed his eyes, apparently racking his brain for suspects. Or maybe just drifting off. She started to wonder if she should try to wake him, when he came to. “Yeah, there was. I knew there was someone. That parking lot guy, Tony.”

***

“How goes the winter wonderland?”

“Both wintry and wondrous, but it’s lacking some final touches. And, of course, you. In fact, the lack of you is ruining the whole picture.”

“Really? You and my dad aren’t having fun drinking beer and leaving the toilet seat up and whatever other things guys get up to on their own?”

“Well, I thought that went without saying.”

“How are things going with the two of you, anyway?”

“He hadn’t polished his gun or talked about that place he could bury me in the desert once. It’s like he doesn’t care about me anymore.”

“Well, I think I’m starting to get some nibbles about what’s going on at the Pavilion, so hopefully we can embarrass him enough that he feels compelled to threaten you pretty soon.”

“He’s actually been gone a lot. I mean, more than just his PT. You think it’s possible Keith Mars has a lady?”

“What did you hear? Is it that red headed nurse from the hospital – she was completely obvious even when I was there which just— ew.” 

“I heard nothing, and I am not spying for you. Now you go stop that old bastard from taking down the savings and loan.”

“You did not watch that one without me.”

“Of course I didn’t. Probably.”

“Probably? Logan.”

“It might have been on last night – but I DVRed it! We can watch it again.”

“We’d better.”

“You’ll be done soon?”

“Yeah. I promise. And Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“If you previewed Muppet Christmas Carol without me you’re a dead man.”

***

Veronica sighed and flipped through the papers in front of her one more time. Interviews all week long and bupkis. Tony the parking attendant claimed to have never had a run in with Siobhan – mostly because she never drove anywhere without the benefit of a car service. He didn’t think she’d had it in for him, but supposed she could have been the one to report him for waving his friends through – ‘only when the parking lot wasn’t full.’ He’d gotten a write up from his boss for that, but he hadn’t even thought to blame Siobhan. _Oh well, at least, I was able to confirm his actual name. That counts as a win, right?_

Despite Kate Evan’s assurances, none of the affected stores had bothered to rekey their doors in several years – even after changes in management. Between that and leaving keys for vendors, there’s no telling how many copies could be floating around. For some reason, and despite her popularity down at the Sheriff’s department, the tapes were still ‘being processed”, so that was out.

She could almost see it, the picture peaking past the puzzle pieces, but she needed the central piece – the one that drew it all together. 

She needed motive. Because for the life of her she still couldn’t see why anyone would bother with such an essentially meaningless crime. Expensive as they were, there didn’t appear to be much of a market for stolen Christmas decorations. She’d done a couple of searches and even had Mac double check her work, but no one seemed to be selling anything remotely like what was stolen. And if it was the first feint for a larger haul, then it was a remarkably stupid one, since it had done nothing but put security and management on their guard. _Unless they need them on their guard for some reason?_ But the Neptune Pavilion was hardly Nakatomi Plaza, there was no major security system they needed the FBI to cut the power to.

So she was stuck with petty motives. Revenge, maybe, or malice. Possibly against Kate Evans, possibly against the detestable Siobhan. But it was a pretty large risk for so small a reward, if that was the case. In fact, Siobhan seemed happy with getting to redo the displays the way she’d wanted them in the first place. Well, happy might be an overstatement, Veronica doubted the woman ever felt anything as simple and wholesome as happiness. But of everyone she’d talked to, Siobhan seemed least concerned by the actual break-ins.

Veronica ran the conversation from earlier in the week through her head. Siobhan had wanted to redo the displays before the break-ins. Assuming for a second they were still intact – with the ‘subpar’ ornaments – would she have been allowed to do so? Surely not. And yet, would anyone really stage a robbery just to change a freaking Christmas display? A temper tantrum would be so much more reasonable.

She flicked an errant paperclip off the desk. She was missing something. Something obvious.

She turned to the second stack of papers, the one Jared had given her. He hadn’t exaggerated about the detail of the diagrams. Looking at them, she felt like she could put the display together herself with no trouble. It was hard to see where he could have gone wrong. Of course, it was also hard to see how he could confuse Italy and India. _Hang on._

A thin yellow slip of paper had glued itself to the back of one of the diagram pages, with what she could only pray was coffee. A tug on the corner tore it, and she very carefully did not swear. Snagging her bag from the coat rack, she located a pair of tweezers in one of the side pockets and carefully began to separate the papers.

The yellow paper, once rescued, turned out to be a packing slip, apparently from the order Jared signed for. Her eyes glazed over yet another list of ridiculously priced baubles, and then sharpened on the business address. Suryapur Imports didn’t sound particularly Italian to her – in fact – she pulled up her browser for a little quick googling. Suryapur – yes, she’s got it – better known as Surat. India.

And just like that the picture flipped. She’d been looking at the old woman, she should have seen the young girl. At the vase when she should have seen the faces in silhouette. At the one clichéd thing instead of the _other_ clichéd thing.

She scanned the packing slip again. Sixty glass ornaments at a price that could have been a car payment. Purchase number, date – and there in the upper right hand corner, the name of the person who placed the order. She laughed aloud despite herself.

She looked at the diagram again. If she was right, the thief was on a deadline. These particular ornaments had been in four stores. That meant there was one potential target that the thief hadn’t managed to hit yet, possibly because of its interior location in the complex, or the fact that its managers generally bothered to set the alarm. She grinned. If she acted quickly, she would have all the evidence she needed and could say goodbye to this case for once and for all and head back to Logan and her own Christmas.

Snagging her phone, she made a quick call. “Listen, it’s Veronica Mars. I know who broke in to the shops on the Pavilion. I’m about to head over there now to get proof.” She paused, her intended New Year’s resolution resounding in her head. She supposed she could get a head start. “It’s a bigger deal than we thought, though. Any chance you could con a couple of deputies – preferably ones that don’t hate me – into going out there too?” Veronica frowned as she collected her jacket and bag. “There are too some that don’t hate me. And you might want to call the manager of the coffee shop. I think he’s about to be robbed.”

***

“Hey, Weevs?”

“What – Echolls?”

“Yeah. Blast from the past. Listen, Wallace gave me your number.”

“Aw, you missed me?”

“Like the house you burned down. Look, I’d love to reminisce and braid each other’s hair – I’m sorry, is that offensive to the follicularly challenged? I can never remember – anyway, I kind of need a favor.”

“Yeah, you’re about a foot too tall and not blonde enough to get away with asking me that.”

“It’s a favor for the diminutive blonde, if that helps.”

“She need backup for something?”

“Not exactly. I do.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, Echolls, but I don’t have that magical rich boy get out of jail card like you do.”

“Sure you do. Mine’s the aforementioned blonde, and I believe she’s worked her magic for you a few times. Like the time a couple months ago when you broke into those houses on Park Place and the Boardwalk.”

“Must have been someone else, I was focused on getting all four Railroads.”

“Right, my mistake. Look, this isn’t illegal. I just – I actually need some help with the house.”

“You did not just call me about cleaning your house. I know that because I know you have a healthy new attachment to your life.”

“Look, I recognize that the optics here are not ideal, and I’m sure, that, given enough time, I would know what the little rolly extension part of the vacuum cleaner is for, but I still have a three more kinds of cookies to make, a goose to pick up, and about a zillion more lights that I somehow need to hang without hitting the roof’s flashpoint. It’s my first Christmas with her, man. She’s got a case and I can’t say anything because apparently we’re grown ups now. But I can at least give her the Christmas that she wants.”

“Why don’t you just call a cleaning service?”

“Because I’d actually like to avoid being in the tabloids for a while. You’d be surprised how much the Brass frowns on that sort of thing. Any stranger I call, it’s going to be the same thing. You might have some questionable associates, but you enjoy looking down on me far too much to let that happen. I just - I thought you might know someone. A friend, or neighbor, or something. I’ll pay triple the going rate to get this place into shape.”

“I don’t know.”

“Again, it’s not for me. It’s for Veronica.”

“They don’t teach you to clean in the Army?”

“Okay, now you’re just being hurtful.”

***

She’d finished her phone calls, but no one from the Sheriff’s department had shown up yet. She’d parked her car in an unobtrusive corner of the lot she could find so as not to spook any potential crooks, but no one had shown. Maybe there was some sort of midnight special at Baby Dolls or the Veil. Maybe – _shit_.

A car pulled up to the loading docks on the side of the complex. Like that wasn’t suspicious enough at this hour, it was running without lights.

She debated staying in her own vehicle for at least thirty seconds, which was discrete and measurable progress. And after all, it wasn’t cheating on your New Year’s resolution if it wasn’t New Year’s yet, right? She slipped out of the car, and then paused. Her outfit was dark enough that she could blend into the shadows, but needed something to cover her hair. This was why she needed to be more of a hat person.

The intruder – at this distance just an anonymous figure in black – began to make their way to the mall’s interior courtyard. Veronica reached into her bag, checking once more that she did indeed have both her tazer and her phone. And then she followed them. 

She followed them to the coffee shop where they let themselves in with the key they’d claimed not to have. Veronica knew that as soon as they’d left there’d be no evidence that this was about anything but ornaments. She fidgeted and frowned as warring instincts told her alternately to confront the bad guy and stay put. 

Then the door opened again, and she found herself doing both. She widened her stance a little, acting a lack of concern she did not feel.

“So why’d you bother with the break-ins?” Her voice sounded shrill against a heavy blanket of silence. “Why not just let Siobhan change them out after she threw her fit about their quality?” 

Veronica reached once more into her bag, letting her fingertips dance across her phone. She wasn’t alone, not really.

Kate Evans, her sleek bob incongruous against her baggy wardrobe, looked up, startled, and then clenched her jaw when she recognized Veronica.

“She would have thrown them away if she got her hands on them. I couldn’t have that.” She shook her head. “I should have known you’d stick your nose in.”

Veronica took a step back, affronted. “To be fair, my nose was invited. By you actually, and what’s up with that? Is this a ‘Poirot will never suspect his own client thing?’ cause that basically never worked.”

Kate’s hands tightened around her lady like day bag in a death grip, but she otherwise projected the same calm competence she had at their first meeting – like she was still standing in her sensible shoes and hose. She shook her head minutely. “Hiring you was Petra’s idea. Something to convince the stores that we’d done our due diligence. I would have been happy with a police report, myself, but she insisted. I suppose I’ll know better for next time.”

Well, that was just offensive. “Next time? What next time? I foiled your dastardly plot just now, there’s no next time.”

“Plot?” The other woman cracked a dry smile. “You saw me let myself into a building I own and remove property also belonging to me. Neither of which are crimes. At most you could get me for filing a false report, assuming you can prove the break-ins were me, which I don’t think you can, and even if you can this is Neptune. I think I’ll do okay.”

“The diamond smuggling’s kind of a big deal though. And actually, that’s a federal crime, cause, you know, Homeland Security.” 

Kate had a good poker face. If Veronica hadn’t been watching for it, she wouldn’t have seen her flinch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and really, I’m in a bit of a hurry so –“

“Right, you’ve got that big trip to the Bahamas – funny thing though, your flight itinerary said the Caymans, so I went ahead and canceled that for you.”

That stopped her dead in her tracks. Now if she could just keep her stopped and talking while she waited for the cavalry to eventually show up.

“You canceled my flight.”

“I spoke to a very helpful gate agent. I just figured Jared must have made a mistake when he booked for you the first time. Let’s be honest, pretty he might be, but the boy’s not that bright.”

“I don’t know what Jared told you –“

“Because Jared was your assistant, wasn’t he, not Siobhan’s. You were the one who freaked out when he signed for that package from India. Because of course, the ones from India were the important packages.”

“I never said he…” she paused, seemed to deflate. When she spoke again her voice was quieter. “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get myself to where I am? To make something of myself in a town that rewards names alone? Not innovation or hard work, just names and money. You – this will destroy me.”

“So maybe the smuggling was a bad idea then,” Veronica said, voice flat.

“What led you to the diamonds?” Kate asked, as if despite herself.

“Hey, I was a big Rescuer’s fan when I was little. I mean, I basically wanted to be Miss Bianca, but then, who didn’t? Also, Surat? Diamond capital of like the world. Not as well known for its ornaments.”

“How much do you want?” Her voice was strangled and Veronica frowned.

“I don’t want anything. Well, that’s not true. I want a lot of things. Health, happiness, a pony. And for you to turn yourself in.”

“Come on, I know how this works. You think you’re the first to-“ She might have been voice on the radio so abruptly did she switch off, a look of alarm flickering across her face.

“To?” Was she talking blackmail? If so, who had blackmailed her?

“Just, tell me how much. What makes this go away?”

“How much? Right. Well, this is Neptune, but you seem to be forgetting. I’m a Mars.”

“You don’t want anything?” Incredulous.

“I want to go home to my boyfriend. I’ve wanted that for days now. But I can’t because someone decided the law didn’t apply to them.”

“What’s to stop me from walking away right now?” Her posture didn’t match even the faint bravado of her words, and Veronica sighed.

“First of all, how about the intelligence that started this whole operation that’s now telling you there’s nowhere to go. Also, this nifty little recording of our entire conversation that, incidentally, is now online.” Veronica became aware of lights and sirens somewhere in the vicinity. She wanted nothing more than to press her for details about a possible blackmailer, but it looked like the window for further interrogation was closing rapidly and it was so like this department to finally show up at the one point that she wished they wouldn’t. “Sixth and lastly, the deputies currently taking their sweet time to get over here.”

Kate muttered something under her breath, but dropped the bag she was holding, and Veronica winced as she heard glass shatter.

“Take away the lady, boys.”

***

Logan reached for his phone one more time. One hour and thirty minutes since she’d texted him saying she’d cracked the case. Twenty since she’d said she was on her way. He spun a distracted circle in the Mars living room, trying to spot something he’d forgotten. Stockings, candles, lights, tree, fire, Bing on the stereo - no mistletoe but he wasn’t going to try to get that past Keith. It all looked good to him. Well, the Padres ornaments were more spirited than good, but again, not his call.

Keith had taken off earlier in the night, and Logan was not spying but it didn’t take an intelligence agent to spot three different shirt changes. Good on him, he supposed. Especially since it gave Logan time alone with Veronica. 

He heard a car door slam, and tensed, reminding himself that it was after midnight, and she’d been working round the clock for days. She’d probably just want to crash and that was fine. This was for her, not -

“Oh my God, Logan!”

And he suddenly couldn’t care less about the decorations. Not with her beaming up at him, looking tired but so happy. Damn, she was beautiful when she was happy. She was always beautiful but right now she might as well have been lit from within.

“Do you hate it? Should I take it down?”

“Shut up. I can’t believe this. This is – you do realize that all of this will be your responsibility from now on, right?”

He smiled down at her. “I will gussy up your Dad’s place every year, if you want.”

She paused and he recognized Veronica in declaration mode, tensing automatically. “What if that’s not what I want?”

“Veronica-“

She barreled forward. “I mean, what if I don’t want it to be my Dad’s place? What if I want it to be our place? I mean, if you wanted that.” 

He didn’t pause before his mouth was on hers.

Their kisses had always said so much - all the things that they couldn’t find the words or maybe the courage to say. Passion, playfulness, longing, reassurance. This – this was coming home. When she finally pulled back her hands were shaking or his were. But he wasn’t imagining the catch in her throat when she said, “So that’s a yes then?”

“Oh, was there a question?” He kissed her again even as she elbowed him in the ribs. “You really – you want this?”

She looked scared, but determined, her face settled into a fierce scowl that made him want to laugh. “I want us. Always, right?”

“Always.”

She pulled him down for another kiss.

“Well I’m as light as a feather, I’m as giddy as a school boy.”

“Hate to tell you Ebenezer, but you aren’t that light,” she snickered and he pouted.

He really did feel giddy. Silly and happy and unable to restrain himself as he tugged her toward him. “Well in Whoville they say?”

“Nope”

“Every time a bell rings –“

“An invocation in favor of sound pollution if I ever heard one”

“Yippie-kay-ay motherf-“

“Now that’s the holiday spirit I’m looking for.”

“Well I can’t go with Charlie Brown. I have no tiny tree to sing around. Unless I decorate you. Ooooh. I could decorate you. I know there’s an extra string of lights here somewhere.”

“Will you just shut up and kiss me?” she laughed.

“You’re a true romantic, Mars.”

“Damn straight.”

***


End file.
